


marshmallows

by bittersblue



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shop, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersblue/pseuds/bittersblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>she notices the extra marshmallows in her cup</p>
            </blockquote>





	marshmallows

There’s a café she liked to frequent. Symmetricality, affectionately dubbed as The Sym by the residents of Death City, was a haven for students. The tables were large, the chairs plush, and the aura a perfect balance of calm and fun. For Maka, it was the ideal place to study, an escape from her hectic home life. It also helped that their hot chocolate was _to die for_. Today was just one day out of many where she found herself, curled up on a soft armchair by a window, clutching a mug of steaming cocoa with the standard six marshmallows floating on top. She stared out the window, smiling at the irony that this café full of strangers felt more like home than her actual home had felt for months. She truly enjoyed it here. Plus, the cute boy at the cashier helped too.

Maka found herself staring more and more. He intrigued her. He looked around her age—maybe a bit older—but with a mature, collected aura about him. His eyes were a raw shade of gold and lighted up when serving. Dressed in black and white and fingers adorned with skull rings, he looked almost intimidating. But what intrigued her most was his hair. It was combed through the middle, perfectly balanced, save the three white stripes. Staring at them made her feel uncomfortable—scared, almost. She faintly recalled a rumor: a rumor about the son of Lord Death. But when she saw him, smiling and handing a free ice cream cone to a crying child, it was all forgotten. One born of death couldn’t be so kind.

It took Maka two weeks to gather up the courage and talk to him. She placed her order—“large cocoa, medium marshmallow”—and snuck a glance at him. Her eyes wandered, admiring his lean neck and shoulders before landing on his nametag. And it was right there, written in small block letters: Kid. His name. Kid. _Huh_ , she wondered. _How did I not notice that before?_ But what a strange name he had. Perhaps it was a nickname, or maybe an acronym. Maybe he had an embarrassing name with more syllables than he had fingers. Mind wandering, she didn’t realize herself gawking.

“I do have a strange name, don’t I?”

Maka yelped, turning red, and spluttered out an apology.

“Don’t worry,” he said, chuckling. “It really _is_ a weird name. I don’t blame you for staring.”

She found herself dumbstruck.

“But,” he continued, eyes lighting up in a way that made her heart flutter. “I think now that you know my name, it’s only fair that I know yours.”

 _Oh_. Maka felt her knees weaken. He was… _flirting_. “Maka,” she said. “Maka Albarn.”

“Well, Maka Albarn,” he said, glancing at his watch. “My shift ends in an hour. How would you like to have a cup of coffee after—or hot chocolate if you want?”

“I would love that,” she said, despite her now parched throat.

When she went back to her chair, mug in hand, she couldn’t help but notice the eight marshmallows floating atop.


End file.
